


The Twelve Apostles

by 13ways



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 500 Words Challenge, Canon Compliant, M/M, Short One Shot, South Africa, Table Mountain, remember that Norah Jones lyric tweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 16:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13ways/pseuds/13ways
Summary: Romantic comedies on Netflix.





	The Twelve Apostles

**Author's Note:**

> The constraint for this writing challenge is to write a work under 500 words. This story is canon compliant, and the last scene takes place on March 3, 2019.

What if all romantic comedies ended with a dive into the ocean?

It would’ve been funny when they went to Table Mountain— no coastline.  

Harry and Louis leave the hotel separately, put up hoodies and sunnies, and hire a car to take them out of Cape Town, to the start of the Twelve Apostles Trail. Harry tosses his clothes off sequentially, until he ends up in only his skivvies, socks and hiking boots. At the very top, Harry goes total starkers while Louis drinks water and smokes a blunt, blowing rings. 

“Nice view.” Harry snaps a photo for Instagram.

“Dead nice.” Louis blows smoke into Harry’s mouth. Their tongues touch. Louis’ wrist brushes Harry’s waist. Harry’s sinks closer; his fingers lose themselves in Louis’ hair.

They were in the right spot in Jamaica, when they went for holiday. In the daytime, Louis drinks as many cocktails as he can before heaving. At night they skinny-dip in the inky water.

“You’re quite handsome in the dark,” Louis comments.

“Only in the dark?”

“Your dimples look deeper, like the Mariana Trench.”

“Aren’t you quite the Wikipedia.”

“Shut up,” Louis says. “Get over here.”

The water’s warm. They feel something— fish?— brush their submerged bodies. Their heads look smaller with their hair all wet, but Louis cackles imagining them on the cover of a gay romance novel— “Under the Moonlight,” or some equally soppy shit.

“Marry me,” he says.

Harry pouts, flirting. “We are married, knobhead.”

“No,” Louis says quietly. It’s easier in the dark. “I mean for real, Harry. Will you marry me? Someday? Let’s get married.”

Harry panics and kisses him. 

Then, Ibiza, Hawaii, back to Jamaica. They’re too famous now. Hats and hoodies don’t cut it anymore. People know them everywhere.

And… well, other things.

Harry dives into the ocean, over and over, everywhere. He keeps thinking, it’s still a romantic comedy, right? I still love him, even if he’s not here. Under the waves, Louis is there with him. Nothing’s changed. On stage, he’s still there. Still there.  

Japan. It’s too cold to jump in the water, except in the hot springs. People are very polite. There’s even a decorum to their anarchy. They enchant Harry.

London. He’s listening to _Two of Us_ when the door opens, as Louis’ footsteps draw closer. His new trainers are stealth-like, but he still sounds like him. They don’t say a word until the end.

“It’s beautiful,” Harry finally says.

“Thanks.” Louis’ voice is raspier now, lower, but his Yorkshire accent is thicker than ever. “For coming. You didn’t have to.”

“I wouldn’t miss it, Lou,” Harry says. “Wanted to.”

“How’s work?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs. “Good. It’s coming along.” He runs a hand through his hair. “How are you?”

“Excited,” Louis lights up. “Proper chuffed. I think this is it, Harry. Been a long time coming. Can’t wait.”

If every romantic comedy ended with a dive into the ocean, it would crest here on blue and green waves, fading to happily ever after.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
